


I Go Walking in My Sleep

by eboleiul



Series: These Lives He Owes [2]
Category: Heroes (TV), Heroes Reborn (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sylaire - Freeform, and a lot of crying, be prepared for sadness, so much Sylaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5987613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eboleiul/pseuds/eboleiul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire can't stop thinking, and at two in the morning, it's not just a problem for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Go Walking in My Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is because I couldn't just leave everyone happy.

She was quiet as she slipped out of her shared bed in their apartment and padded out into the hall and from there into the kitchen. Her mind was spinning circles, which it had done for the last three weeks, and there was no reason to stay in bed when she couldn’t possibly sleep. Putting the kettle on an eye on the stove, Claire slid a stool out at the counter and sat down, putting her head in her hands.

There in the dark with the building sound of water boiling, she broke again. She couldn’t stop the tidal wave of emotion that crashed down on her, familiar dark waters claiming her. Anxiety had plagued her leading up to the meeting of her teenage twins, but the confusing feelings after were what had her crying in the kitchen at two in the morning.

She must have let the kettle whistle for too far long, because suddenly she wasn’t alone. The screeching kettle was on another eye, she had arms wrapped around her, and her face pressed against a chest, sobbing against it bitterly. He rubbed one of her shoulders until she slowly calmed down. Finally, she pulled away, and looked up at the face in the shadows.

                “I’m…” she was going to say sorry, but he stopped her with a kiss that told her not to be. It started the tears back up, not as bitter as before but still enough that she leaned against his chest and let him rub her back while they took over.

                “You could have woken me up,” he said, his voice more of a deep rumble in his chest with her ear so close. Claire lingered only a minute more against him before turning back to the counter and wiping at her face with the bottom of her shirt. “The crying was a surprise,” she told him. Her control on her grief was generally better, and if she cried like she just had, it was usually when she was alone.

A light flicked on, blinding her, but not stopping her lover from moving to make tea with the water in the kettle. He brought her a mug once it was done and she blew the steam from it a few times before either of them spoke again.

                “I couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking, so I came out here hoping…I don’t know.”

                “Is it the kids?” he asked, too perceptive. Her expression must have said as much, because he looked away like he knew what she was thinking. He stood on the other side of the kitchen island, arms braced against the surface, “Do you want to talk about it?”

They looked at each other for a long minute while she thought, before she shook her head and looked down at the tea.

She didn’t want to talk about it…but she needed to.

                “I just…I think I expected it to be easier. That it wouldn’t matter that I had missed most of their lives. That I would be here and that would be enough to reset the clock. Do you know what I mean?”

He was making a face across the counter, and she plowed on, “I thought it would feel like they were my kids…instead, they’re like…they could be my siblings. They could be the neighbor’s kids. I never kissed their ‘boo-boos’ or tucked them in at night or held them when they were babies. I never had to yell at them for lying or ground them or get them out of whatever shit-storm they got themselves into. I’m not their mom. I’m an idea.” There was a lump in her throat and she was blinking back tears. It was going to be an ugly cry if she started back up again, the injustice of her situation making her bitterly angry.

                “I didn’t even get to name them,” she said, grinding her teeth, trying to get through it, “I wouldn’t have called him ‘Nathan.’ If I was going to name him after my dad, it would have been ‘Noah.’ And my grandma on my dad’s side was great, but…I just…I wish…” Dropping back into the dark waters of her emotions, Claire cried maybe an hour this time, finding other things she had missed and wished she could have done to cry about.

When he carried her back to their bedroom and laid her back down, she didn’t let go of his neck. A wild thought had run through her mind, almost gone before she chased it down and put it into action.

They couldn’t go back to change the past. She only had the future.

He kissed her back when she crushed her mouth to his, and if he could tell that she was a bit desperate, he didn’t let it show. They undressed with deft hands and tangled themselves together until the friction drew muted, breathy versions of each other’s names from their lips. It hit her about the time that the stars behind her eyes dissipated that fixing herself might not be as easy as having another baby, and that it might be the exact opposite of what would fix her.

In the dark, with his arms wrapped around her, Claire hung on the edge between hoping for two outcomes.


End file.
